


just give me a call

by seashadows



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dirty Talk, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Good Omens Lockdown, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Masturbation, Other, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23973064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seashadows/pseuds/seashadows
Summary: "Good night, angel.""Crowley, wait."Aziraphale comes up with something wonderful to alleviate Crowley's boredom before he takes his nap.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 252
Collections: Good Omens Lockdown fics





	just give me a call

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Queen's "Don't Stop Me Now." 
> 
> This takes place in a different universe than my other Good Omens Lockdown fic, and assumes an established relationship. 
> 
> Thank you very much to d20owlbear for beta-reading!

“Good night, angel.”

“Crowley, wait,” Aziraphale said, just as Crowley lifted the phone away from his ear and was about to end to the call. “I have an idea.”

Crowley brought the phone back to his head. “Yeah?”

“It occurs to me,” said Aziraphale, prim but with a note of something exciting that made Crowley’s heart beat faster, “that I’ve been remiss in using my imagination during this lockdown. I’ve left you quite alone when telephones exist, and I’m sorry for that.”

“Angel, it’s okay,” Crowley told him. “I know how you get caught up in reading. You like to spend time by yourself—totally fine.” He’d read the term ‘hyperfixation’ a few years ago, and thought it fit Aziraphale’s bibliophilic tendencies perfectly. “I’m not punishing myself by sleeping.”

Aziraphale sighed. “I know. But… well, I was in the middle of writing you a letter when I rang you. I was debating whether to, erm, tell you a few saucy things in it.”

Crowley couldn’t help bursting into laughter. “Saucy things? Aziraphale, you naughty angel!” They’d done far saucier things over the past year and a half, stuff that made him blush whenever he thought about it. But Aziraphale still held on to his long-held love of subtle, written erotica and Crowley couldn’t object to that. “You were going to send me a letter, huh?”

“Oh, yes. I’d even taken out my _green_ sealing wax.” Aziraphale’s voice was merry. “Let me ask you, Crowley… have you ever spoken about your desires over the telephone?”

If his brain were a computer program, it would have been blue-screening at him right then. “You mean phone sex?” Crowley finally asked after a few embarrassing sputtering noises.

“Is that what it’s called?”

“Yes. And no, I haven’t.” He’d taken his last human lover before the invention of the telephone, and he’d never been fond of initiating smutty written communication with anyone but Aziraphale. “Are you asking me to…?” He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. That blessed blush was starting to warm the back of his neck already.

Aziraphale cleared his throat. “If you’re willing, my dear.”

Crowley’s cheeks and the front of his neck went hot. “Yeah, um, ‘course I am,” he said. “Not like I’ve got anything else to do– not that it’s _boring_ or anything, having phone sex. With you. Um. Am I making sssense?”

Aziraphale’s laugh was music to his ears. “Of course, darling. How shall we do this? I have to assume you know the process better than I do.”

Was it possible to discorporate of embarrassment? He’d once heard a rumor in Hell that it was, but he didn’t trust the source. The Erics were so naïve that they believed anything. “Uh…sometimes you ssstart by asking what the other person is wearing.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” said Aziraphale. “I’ve gone casual in the past few days. My usual trousers, and a very light jumper over an undershirt. I’ve still got my shoes on.”

Crowley bit back a laugh. “Sounds sssexy,” he said. It really did. “Anything on under that? Underwear?”

“My drawers,” Aziraphale answered. “How about you, my sweet? What are _you_ wearing?”

Crowley looked down and took stock of himself. “T-shirt and jeans,” he said. “One of my band shirts from the nineties.” He’d been into Slayer for a hot minute before he realized how batshit insane the fans were, but he still loved Iron Maiden. They did amazing skull logos, for one thing. “No shoes. Or no fake shoes, I should say. Under that…” He closed his eyes as his blush flared. “Nothing. I’m going commando today.”

“Naughty demon,” said Aziraphale, sounding utterly delighted. “You’ve left yourself nothing to the imagination. What if I asked you to tease yourself, hm? You’d be in a bind.”

He thought about the other times Aziraphale had put him in a bind and felt himself begin to harden, the warm tingling feeling from Aziraphale’s suggestions flowing from his cheeks downward. “I… I can ssstill…”

“I know you can.” Aziraphale’s voice was a kiss through the phone. “Poor dear. It’s spring and I’ve not even given you any release. Green, growing things, rebirth… you must be suffering dreadfully.”

“Yeah, been horny,” Crowley said hoarsely. “I wanked day before yesterday.”

“Ooh. Wouldn’t it have been so much better if I’d rung?”

Crowley suddenly realized he’d begun to rock in place, pressing himself down against his chair. It took an effort, but he stopped—Aziraphale would likely want that. “P– probably.”

“Most definitely,” Aziraphale corrected him. Crowley had no objection to that. “What would you like, my dear boy? Shall I have us tease ourselves slowly, or do you need your release more quickly?”

Crowley thought of a time a few months ago, when he and Aziraphale had each curled up under a heavy blanket in the cold of late December and touched themselves to the other’s instructions. “I don’t want to be teased for _too_ long,” he finally said. “You choose, angel.”

“Mmm,” said Aziraphale, with a delicious, shuddering sigh. “Why don’t you put your hand up under your shirt, Crowley? Tell me if your lovely nipples are hard yet, and run your fingers over them.”

He hastened to do as he was told. “F– fuck…” he stuttered, rubbing his thumb over his left nipple. “Yeah. They’re hard. Oh, God.”

“Blasphemy already?” Aziraphale said in delight, the big hypocrite. “You must want this terribly.”

“Hngh,” said Crowley. “What about you? You’re more… _ghh,_ ssssensitive.”

“So I am,” said Aziraphale. “Ah…” His voice went breathy. “I’m stroking my chest. I know you love how soft I am, dear.”

Crowley hissed loudly as he switched nipples. “Wish I could do it for you.”

“Me, too. But… against the rules. _Oh!_ ” He could just imagine Aziraphale sitting there, caressing himself under his jumper until his soft chest grew two hard little peaks.

But sitting where? Crowley decided he needed the full picture. “Are you in your flat, angel?”

“N-no. At my desk.” That was an even better image, and Crowley allowed himself another grind on his chair. “I’ve got drinks, and sushi, and scones, and… oh, I’ve gotten hard so quickly.”

“Sssso’ve I,” Crowley told him. “Can I touch it? Please, angel?”

“Touch your tummy first,” said Aziraphale. “Touch it with your fingertips until you’ve got goosebumps. Then open your trousers.”

Fuck, Aziraphale knew all his erogenous zones way too well—just like Crowley knew that Aziraphale practically came in his pants when the spot behind his ear was licked, or when Crowley stroked up and down his sensitive sides. “Yeah?” His breathing began to come heavy and hard as he touched his belly and undid his jeans. “You gonna… rub yoursssself?”

“I already am,” Aziraphale said. “I couldn’t help it. I’ve left a wet spot on my drawers.” He drew in his breath with a hiss to rival Crowley’s. “I’m warm even through them. And so hard.”

Crowley had his hand in his jeans now, squeezing the base of his cock so Aziraphale’s words wouldn’t bring him off then and there. “Can I push my pantssss down?”

“Please do.” Aziraphale’s soft whimper was crystal clear, even over the disparate connection between their phones. There was a rustle of fabric. “I have mine down to my ankles now, and my drawers.”

Crowley took a second to imagine Aziraphale sitting in his fussy chair, dressed from the waist up, red-faced and looking so debauched he could have been on the cover of an under-the-counter lad mag. “Ffff _fuck_ ,” he said. The word had no sibilants, but he hissed it anyway. “Want you.” He made his hand into a fist and stroked his cock as he wiggled his jeans down to his knees. His chair was going to be filthy from his activities, and he didn’t care.

“I want _you_ , my love,” Aziraphale said, and moaned. “You make me so… so _hot_ for you. I, _ah_ , I’ve got it in my hand.”

“Yeah, me too.” Crowley slowed down, fucking his fist in measured motions. Wouldn’t do to pop off so fast. “Rub you off if I could. Did you make lube?”

“Oil,” said Aziraphale. Crowley concentrated, and thought he could hear slick noises on the other end of the line. “And you?”

Crowley began to stroke a little faster, making his hand just slick enough to ease the friction. “A little. Oh, fuck, angel.”

“I want to d– draw it out,” Aziraphale gasped. “But I’m afraid I– I’m going to come.”

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut and concentrating on not doing so himself. “How long’s it been?”

“Too long, oh, _Crowley_. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Crowley’s cock was sliding through his fist, and he felt his balls tighten up with impending orgasm. “C-can I…can I come?”

“Oh, please do!”

Crowley tipped his head back as his orgasm tore through him, arching his back and hissing while his cock jerked in his grasp. Aziraphale was making similar noises, gasps and whimpers that lit Crowley up like a bare wire in a socket. Stars danced in his vision, nebulae, the entire galaxy—he couldn’t remember the last time he had come this hard.

When he was finally finished, he was a complete mess and could hear Aziraphale panting on the other end. “Okay, angel?” Crowley asked. “Sounded intense.”

“Mm-hm,” Aziraphale said, voice heavy and satisfied. Crowley could just imagine him slumping in his chair like he himself was doing, maybe giving himself a few last strokes. “That was wonderful, Crowley.”

“Yeah, it was.” Crowley’s eyelids drooped. “Made me sssleepy. Might go to bed ahead of schedule.”

“I imagine so.”

Crowley snapped his fingers to clean himself up before things could get sticky. “Will you be okay? I mean, I’ll wake up if you ring with an emergency.” He slept heavily, but it wasn’t as though he was a hibernating squirrel. Those little shits knew how to sleep.

“Yes, of course.” Aziraphale caught his breath. “Do you know, Crowley, it’s our anniversary?”

“Huh?” Crowley started in place. “But we got together two Augusts ago. You know, after everything.”

“I mean the anniversary of the Arrangement,” said Aziraphale. “It would be a thousand years ago this year, and we finalized it around the middle of spring. Perhaps the first of May, I don’t quite remember. But it’s our anniversary, nevertheless.”

Crowley licked his dry lips and mulled that over. “I’ll have to get you an anniversary present when this is over,” he said. “Something _nice_.”

“I look forward to it,” Aziraphale said. “Why don’t you go to sleep? Have a nice rest and dream of lovely things. I’ll talk to you when you decide you’re ready.”

“Sounds good.” Crowley made a kissing noise at the phone and looked out at the night sky beyond the window. “I love you, angel. Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary,” Aziraphale said softly. “Good night, darling.”

The call ended. Crowley looked at the phone, then pressed his lips gently against where Aziraphale’s beaming face had looked up at him from his icon during the call. “Good night,” he said, and slithered off for a nap.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find this fic [here](https://godihatethisfreakingcat.tumblr.com/post/617046283393302528/ficlet-just-give-me-a-call) on Tumblr!


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